


Hurt-Comfort

by jenny_wren



Category: The Sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Folie a deux</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt-Comfort

“Chief, there you are.” Jim returned his attention to the file he was reviewing. “Head down to forensics and pick up the report on the Kant murder.”

“Sure Jim.” Blair Sandburg shrugged off his ever present backpack, about-turned and left the bullpen. He sighed to himself. Jim had hardly seemed to notice him. Things had been going well with the Sentinel’s senses and Jim was functioning smoothly in his role of super-cop. Cases cleared at an amazing rate in the face of his ruthless determination.

Blair sighed again. With the lack of sentinel problems his status dropped to that of a sometimes useful dogsbody. It wasn’t that Jim was ever unkind, it was just he didn’t seem to notice it was him, Blair, as opposed to anyone else. He had the lowering suspicion Jim called him Chief so he wouldn’t accidentally call him by the wrong name. He felt disposable and increasingly transparent.

As he reached the elevator he paused for a moment, breath hitching in his throat. Of their own accord his feet drifted towards the stairs. Automatically he drew air shallowly through his mouth to calm his suddenly racing heart.

He shook his head at himself. You promised you wouldn’t do this. You are not going to do this. With quick decisive steps he made his way downstairs.

He hadn’t done it in a while but after a month of indifference from Jim the temptation was growing. His steps faltered as he argued with himself. It isn’t as if I am really going to hurt myself. The temptation rose up to choke him, thundering through his pulse. Knowing Jim would pick it up he acted instantly. Swinging one foot in front of the other he tripped himself. With a soft cry he tumbled down the stairs.

 

Upstairs Jim’s head shot up. The sudden thundering of Sandburg’s heart acted like an electric shock. Instantly he was on his feet and running for the door.

 

Blair hit the wall at the bottom of the stairs and all the breath rushed out of his lungs. He’d caught his head on something and dark spots floated before his eyes. Dragging together all the concentration he could he managed to connect a hand to a foot. With a sharp tug he undid the laces one of his sneakers. Alibi taken care of he relaxed back into the waves of pain.

“Chief? Are you down there?” Jim was at the head of the stairs, Blair knew he must be tracking his rushed heartbeat. Pushed himself away from the wall and straightening slowly, he opened his mouth and groaned.

“Blair! Blair, are you okay?”

Blair felt the cold aching region around his heart warm at the concern in his sentinel’s voice. You are such a putz, Sandburg, of course he cares about you. Why do you have this need to force him to prove it? Jim crouched beside him and helped him to his feet. Blair groaned again and swayed dizzily. Instantly warm, strong, comforting arms wrapped around him, supporting him. He sighed muzzily and burrowed his head against Jim’s chest.

“What’s going on here?” Simon Banks, alerted by the sudden departure of his detective, had followed at a more stately pace to see what kind of mess his observer was in now.

“Blair took a header down the stairs,” said Jim, steadying Blair as he struggled to his feet.

“Any particular reason?”

“I don’t kn…” Jim broke off as he glanced down. “Jesus Chief, your shoe lace is undone. You tripped over your own feet.”

Back to being Chief again, still it was nice while it lasted.

But Jim’s arm remained tight around his shoulders and Jim’s attention remained wrapped around him.

 

Jim sighed as he watched Sandburg, quickly recovered from his tumble down the stairs, bounced out of the bullpen. For a little while he had been able to get close to the whirlwind that was Blair Sandburg. For those few moments he’d been more than a science experiment to his guide.

It was a heady sensation, one that was dangerously addictive. Jim could usually fight down his need for his guide’s attention, but to have it for such a short time and then have it yanked away was simply unfair.

However if he went home from work with a migraine, Sandburg would fuss over him all night. There would be a nice dinner, then he could lie on the couch his aching head resting on his guide’s lap, cool damp cloth across his forehead, while he listened to the soft scritch-scratch of Sandburg grading papers. 

It sounded heavenly. Jim reached into his desk and flipped the cap on the bottle of almond essence he kept in his desk for just such emergencies. His nose wrinkled up as the smell itched through him, settling just behind the bridge of his nose.

One migraine coming up.


End file.
